“Does it make sense anymore?”
“Never give up.”
“Grandma said all those who tried to dig out the treasure have died.”
“That is a story fabricated to keep people away. My forefathers subjugated people to slavery, to earn this wealth.”
“What do you intend to do with it?”
“Return it to the people. The money will be invested in development projects for the village.”
“You will need to answer the police and taxmen.”
“My lawyer will handle it. We will take only what is legally ours.”
Jyoti could not convince her husband, Surya, against completing the task.
Five years later, she stood at the same spot, to inaugurate a new hydropower project. She turned to garland Surya’s photograph, her eyes brimming with tears.
Surya had been found dead on the same spot, one fine morning. There were no footsteps or fingerprints found, but the doctor certified death due to asphyxiation.
Grandma’s prophecy had turned out to be correct. The pregnant Jyoti’s world had crashed, but the memory of her husband’s determination spurred her on. The sins of his ancestors had to be atoned for, so that her son could live a peaceful life.
Justice had been delayed, but not denied.